A Reuniting Reunion
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: tumblr prompt fill for iamazonian: Married!Sherlolly. Molly goes to a high school reunion out of town, and Sherlock finds the weekend without her unbearable. :
1. Chapter 1

iamazonian answered: I've got one! Married!Sherlolly. Molly goes to a high school reunion out of town, and Sherlock finds the weekend without her unbearable. :

YAY ANOTHER PROMPT FILL FOR MY DEAR IAMAZONIAN...who I'm also having the coolest ongoing RP with...love you darling! Hope you like this!

Sigh, surprisingly, I STILL don't own the rights to any persons, real or fictitious, that are portrayed in this story. I am just a girl, an average writer, and an avid fan.

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''It's only for a couple of evenings, Sherlock. You'll be fine. In fact, I bet you'll hardly notice I'm gone.'' Molly stood by the door to 221B, her arms prying the rest of her body out of her husband's strong hold. 'He really is quite a child at times.' She mused. Meanwhile, the consulting detective was trying to pull her back into their flat.

''Molly, I hardly see the point in attending a party with people, whom on the whole, you disliked. However, I'm sure there must be some merit in being one of the only successes from the class of proverbial morons.'' Sherlock considered the two sides equally, still deciding he was not for her leaving him.

''Call John. Call Greg. Maybe he has a case for you. Its just two days, and I'll be back sooner than you realize.'' Molly chuckled, leaning up to kiss her petulant husband. Sherlock groaned out in frustration, before kissing her forehead quickly, and releasing her.

''Fine, but if you are not on the first train Sunday morning, I'm coming after you.'' He stated. Molly simply rolled her eyes before stepping through the doorway, and walking down the steps that led to Baker Street. Sherlock watched from the window above as she climbed into the cab that drove off soon after. The consulting detective sat in his chair all of five minutes before whipping out his phone.

'Come to Baker Street at once.'  
-S-

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Molly had just stepped off the train, when she spotted a very familiar face. Internally, she groaned and rolled her eyes. Outwardly, however, the pathologist worked up her most congenial smile, before waving at the woman approaching her.

''Oh my God, Molly Hooper! Is that really you?" The shrill voice of the once-petite Sylvia Duncan echoed out. Molly took a good look at the woman in front of her, trying to find the skinny cheerleader underneath the layers of plastic surgery. No luck. Molly nodded her head, and tried to comply with the awkward hug she was receiving.

''Yes, it's me. Though, it's actually Holmes now. I'm married.'' Molly declared, a bit proudly if she were to say so herself. Sylvia pulled away with a look of disbelief, but sneered a smile anyway.

''Well, isn't that just...nice. we've got to get to the hotel, lots of people to see, get caught up on the latest gossip. Come on then.'' She pulled Molly by her wrist, dragging her through the crowd of passengers getting on board.

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Sherlock is fidgeting frantically on the brown sofa of Baker Street, while John stands over him.

''Sherlock, you're fine. She's only been gone five hours, why on earth am I here?" John asked as he held the paper, rolled into his hand. The brooding detective had been sulking ever since his arrival, and John was sure he was there to babysit the petulant man-child that was his best friend. Sherlock, having read his thoughts (apparently), rolled over and glared at the doctor.

''You are merely here to keep me company while my wife is away, John. I do not need a caretaker in her , what cases do we have? I need work.'' Sherlock asked as he sat up. He looked up to the sandy blond man, who was currently rolling his eyes, before he was handed the newspaper.

''There's nothing on the blog. Has Lestrade phoned you at all?" John asked as he sat down in his chair. Sherlock flipped the paper open, shaking his head with spite.

''No, I think he's still upset that I mentioned his wife's recent decision for breast implants. Apparently he didn't notice her affair with the plastic surgeon.'' The detective shrugged as he read the paper. John smirked, having remembered the way Greg all but threw Sherlock out of his office. He was distracted from his thoughts by Sherlock tossing the newspaper away in frustration.

''Ugh! Nothing important is happening! Why did she have to leave? As if going to a reunion will make her a better person. Squaring up to the people who despise her for her success. I'm so bored!" He wailed out before throwing himself back on the sofa. John sighed, before standing and heading to the kitchen.

''You know, she did invite you to go along. You said no. In fact, you were adamant about not going, if I recall.'' He called as he reached the kitchen, pulling down the canister of coffee.

''I was adamant about neither of us going, John. She wasn't supposed to go either. However, now she has, and I'm forced to occupy myself with other, less involved things I find enjoyable.'' The pale man huffed. John cringed at the realization of just what his friend was talking about. As if on cue, te detective followed up his statement.

''Oh, as if I didn't have to endure deducing your any 'conquests' with your female companions.'' John's face screwed into a look of annoyance as he brought out two must of fresh coffee. He shoved one cup into Sherlock's hand, and returned to sitting across the room from his friend. The two stared at each other with glowering eyes, the doctor's one passing thought seeming to cross the genius's as well: 'it's going to be a very, very long weekend.'

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''Why don't we go around and hear from some of our most remembered classmates, to hear about what they've been up to?" The cheery voice of Sylvia rang out over the microphone, as she called everyone's attentions to the front of the banquet hall. Her eyes scanned the surface, quickly pointing to the class's former star rugby player. The man stood, his large belly now hanging where once-taut muscles stood. He talked of his family, his coworkers, and his new promotion as acting manager for a small eatery. People nodded and smiled, pretending to be interested in his now boring life. He soon sat down, ushering a nod back to Sylvia. She tapped her finger to her chin, before getting a devilish grin on her face.

''Ooh, I know. Why don't we hear from little 'mousy' Molly?" She grinned smugly as a few people chuckled at the nickname. Molly stood, and shot the woman a smug grin in return. Her husbands words came flowing back to her mind. 'I'm sure there must be some merit in being one of the only successes from the class of proverbial morons.' She stood, and took the wire-free mic that was passed to her.

''Well...''

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''Well? Anything?" Sherlock was seated across the room from John, who spoke on the phone with Lestrade. Sherlock had even said 'please' when asking the good doctor to ring the detective inspector, and ask for a case. Said doctor was now apologizing for his mate's behavior, something he was entirely too practiced at.

John soon hung up the phone, with a heavy sigh. He shook his head and shrugged at the detective.

''Sorry, he said they've got nothing going right now.'' John smirked just a bit as Sherlock huffed out. He suddenly stood, and gazed off into space for a bit.

''Sherlock?" John looked up in slight worry. He'd seen that face far too many times. He knew there was some plan in that brilliant mind, one that would, no doubt, be hazardous.

''Right, I'm going to Molly's reunion. I was, after all, invited. I see no point in wasting away from boredom here when I could be making a wonderful impression on former tormentors to my wife. No need to stick around, John. I'll be off soon.'' Sherlock answered after a moment. He nodded his head curtly, before stalking into his bedroom. John just chuckled a bit, before firing off a text to Molly.

'You were right. Didn't even last the whole day. He's on his way. Have fun!  
-JW-

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Molly felt her phone buzz, just as she was being asked a question by a former classmate.

''So, your husband, the consulting detective...what's he like in person? I hear all about him on the news, and he seems quite the interesting fellow. Is he really the same in private?" The woman sipped from her wine, tilting an interested head toward Molly. As she read John's text, a smile flooded her face. She looked up and answered.

''Well, it seems that my dear husband is going to join me for the rest of the weekend, after all. You'll get to see for yourself what he's like in person.'' Molly smiled brightly, almost proudly, at knowing he couldn't stand being apart from her. She knew what he knew, but was afraid to admit. Sherlock Holmes had become very used to, and quite content with domestic bliss.

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Well, I hope you liked it. Lol, if Sherlock gets as bored as I do, I don't think he'd be able to last the whole weekend. ;) hope you like! Let me know! Love you all dearly! 


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I had to. Too many of you asked and left such awesome reviews, plus I really like doing deduction dialogue with Sherlock. So, here's Chapter 2!

I own not the characters in the tale, apart from all minor OC's, who are about to be obliterated verbally. ;)

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Sherlock stepped off the train just five hours later, and immediately came face to face with his smirking wife. He narrowed his eyes, before his lips matched her grin.

''Oh, don't give me that. You missed me and you know it! Get over here.'' Molly chuckled and pulled her husband by the lapels of his coat, until he was towering over her. She stood on tip toes and gave him a quick kiss. Turning toward the running car, she began talking.

''So, there'll be lots of people there. Lots of deductions to be made, I'm sure.'' She said with a grin. Sherlock looked pleased, and as he slid into the seat of the car, he turned, a curious expression on his features.

''Am I to be myself then? Or are there certain people that are off limits to my...usual observations?" He asked. Molly turned to see his blank expression. 'Oh, he honestly doesn't know.' She mused.

''Sherlock, I didn't have any friends in high school. Nobody is...off limits.'' She gave him a lopsided grin, before turning back to focus on the road ahead. Sherlock's grin widened at this news. 'They'll regret ever speaking an ill word against her, I'll ensure it.' His mind told itself.

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They soon arrived downstairs in the large conference room of the hotel, after putting Sherlock's small bag in Molly's room. His pristine suit cut a stunning look to the detective, and he quietly strode in next to his lovely wife. His eyes flicked all around, taking notice of tiny, insignificant details of the people they passed. Molly smiled proudly as she waltzed up to a slender, red haired woman, tapping her on the shoulder.

''Julia, this is my husband, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Julia. She was my former lab partner in science.'' Molly smiled crookedly, as she saw his mind already taking the woman apart. Before he even uttered a greeting, he had already deduced that she was recently promoted in her job, now the manager of the bank she worked for. Her hair was dyed, naturally a brunette, and she used far too much we make up. 'Obviously hiding the wrinkling skin around the corners. Time has not been kind to her.' Sherlock gave a quick grin, before ushering out his hand to shake with hers. This 'Julie' did likewise, and he could tell infinitely more about her from her skin on her hands. 'Smooth, the oils of handling money have kept them from cracking. Not used to dealing with chemicals of other kinds, ah.' His mind made the discovery. 'Molly's lab partner, with unspoiled hands. She didn't assist in any way. A parasitic leech, sucking up the information that her kind classmate so willingly offered.' Sherlock's hand dropped to his side, and he looked up to the woman's face.

''Three months since your promotion, but you've clearly not bragged about it to other people, as they are not asking a multitude of questions. The means by which you got the job then, are probably ones of a sordid measure. Sleeping with the boss, Julie? What will his wife say?" He sat out a bit sarcastically, his tone quiet enough not to be overheard. Julie's list parted as she looked up at him, shocked. Before she could speak, however, he cut her off.

''A pleasure meeting you. Come along Molly, many of these...classmates of yours for me to meet.'' He smirked over to the brown haired woman at his side, who was clearly biting back an urge to smile and laugh. She nodded her head and watched onto him as he led them away. Julie stood still, her mouth still agape with horrified shock.

''Who's next?" He murmured into her hair by the shell of her ear. Molly chuckled a bit, before spying a very tall, very bald man. She nodded her head toward him, a gleam in her eye. The gleam of sought after revenge. Sherlock saw the look, and he knew exactly who this man was. He'd heard the story from her before.

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''He had asked me to the winter formal. And then, as soon as I show up to the dance, he acted like I was some sort of...freak. Said he'd never even talked to me and to leave him alone. I was humiliated...in front of people who already hated me.'' She said, her head resting on the flat of his abs. Sherlock had listened intently, swearing then and there that he would let no one humiliate her again, himself included.

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The man turned around, and plastered a fake smile on his face. He offered up a hand, to which Sherlock merely quirked a brow. He gazed over to Molly, who was smugly introducing the man to her husband. He looked up and the man's face fell at the mention of his name.

''THE Sherlock Holmes? Wow, that's just...you did well there, Mouse-face, I mean, Molly.'' Sherlock could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the stressed vein in his temple protruding just so. Sherlock knew the signs straight away. 'Increased adrenaline, causing perspiration in key stress locations, averted gaze and fidgeting fingers. Ah, a criminal.' He leaned in, to take a quick sniff of the man. He smelled not only of booze and strong perfume from the prostitute he had brought as his date, but also of an underlying scent of Meth. The man stared in scared confusion as Sherlock sniffed away like a bloodhound. He finally stood back, and a dark grin inched its way up his face.

''And how the mighty have fallen. Perhaps, if you would have paid more attention t your studies whilst in school, rather than making a mockery of my wife's kind hearted and trusting nature, you wouldn't be I association with prostitutes and drug dealers now. You know who I am, sir. You know what happens now. I'd say you have about a twenty percent chance of making it to the train station before the police arrive. You may as well stay here. Enjoy a drink.'' Sherlock's grin was now laced with a look of absolute disgust toward the man, who was now sighing in defeat, as Sherlock passed him a glass of wine. Molly simply shrugged happily as the former tormentor looked to her for help of any kind. She rubbed her fingers up and down Sherlock's arm, and he escorted her away. Molly leaned into him, snuggling her cheek into his upper arm.

''You're enjoying this, aren't you?" She asked with a smile. Sherlock chuckled lowly, and nodded his head, before leaning down to kiss her cheek again.

''Not nearly as much as you are.'' He retorted with a smirk. Molly blushed a bit at being found out, but played coy anyway. They sat and ate their meal, conversing with the others at their table, the detective making kinder, more trivial deductions about the people at the table.

Once the meal had ended, the staff had cleared out a majority of the tables, making way for people to mix and mingle with each other, as well as dance. Sherlock raised a brow, watching long lost friends talking around the room, former sweethearts dancing with each other in the center. He stood, and offered a hand to his wife.

''Shall we, m'lady?" He asked in a low voice. Molly giggled a bit, and stood, taking his hand. She knew it was a rare treat for him to be so openly affectionate in the eye of others, and she knew why he was doing it now. So, being the smart and clever woman she was, she soaked it for all its worth. He twirled her out on the floor, before bringing her close to him once more. They swayed back and forth, his fingers wrapped tightly around hers in one hand, the other looped around her waist, holding her close. He would mutter observations to her, telling her all about the misfortunes of her former schoolmates. Molly giggled into his chest as they danced, until she felt them stop. She perked her head up to see Sylvia standing next to them.

''Would it be terribly rude of me to ask your husband for a dance?" Her false smile was caked on her face, much like her make up. Molly looked up to her husband, who was looking right back at her. They shared an unspoken conversation, and he smirked as he saw the idea pass through her eyes. She separated herself from him, and nodded to the woman.

''By all means, he's a terrific dancer. And you've not had the pleasure of meeting yet.'' Molly said with an equally fake grin.

''Well, are you sure?" Came Sylvia's question. Molly's grin had a hint of devilishness to it, and she took another step back.

''Oh, I insist. Sherlock, I'll just be powdering my nose.'' She caught his eye again, before turning to leave. Sherlock knew there was something different about the one. Sure, they had all seemed to play a part in bullying his Molly as a teen, but this woman, this 'Sylvia', seemed to be the foremost tormenting force from his wife's past. He looked down to the woman who was now dancing with him. 'Three, no, four times undergoing plastic surgery. Regular Botox injections, and significant cosmetic restructuring of her nose. Two children, both boys judging by her leg muscles. Serial adulterer, husband is away often, most likely a businessman.' His observations were cut off by her voice speaking.

''So tell me, how does a girl like Mousy Molly snag a guy like you?" She asked, her hand rubbing along the muscle in his arm. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her obvious advances.

''Hm, let's see. For starters, she is significantly intelligent.'' He bit with a hint of disdain. Sylvia played right along.

''Oh yea. She always was such a little brainiac. All those hours after school spent in the chemistry lab. No doubt she was going on to do something involving science.'' She spoke with all the politeness of a genuinely kind person. However, Sherlock was piecing together her association with his pathologist.

''Tell me, Sylvia. How did Molly acquire her nickname?" He narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled back up at him.

''Hm, well...I guess it must have been our second year. Molly's always been so quiet...you know, mousy. Well, it was one of the Griffin boys' idea to put one of the lab mice in her jumper. You would have expected her to shriek or do something outrageous. But no, we barely got a rise out of her. She simply...squeaked. Like a mouse, and the name stuck.'' Sylvia giggled lightly as she recalled the memory, to which Sherlock frowned. He had heard Molly's take on the story before, he knew who this Sylvia was now. He smirked a bit.

''Funny thing, nicknames. They can often shape who we are, or what we become. Although I suppose some nicknames are given because of who we choose to be. Wouldn't you agree, Silky Sylvia?" He glared at her now, and her eyes went wide.

''Wh..where did you hear that name?" She stuttered, her face going pale. Sherlock spun them around, and leaned in closely.

''Oh, a little 'mouse' told me all about you. Most popular girl in school, if only for your willingness to sleep with everyone and anyone who wanted you. Couldn't get anyone to truly enjoy your company, so you hiked up your skirt a bit more to draw their attentions. Tell me, how proud do you feel of yourself, not knowing entirely who the father of your children is?" By this time, they had stopped moving, Sherlock simply standing there, shooting off his deductions to the petrified woman. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and she simply whispered her words.

''You're a monster.''

''Yes, yes. I'm a terrible man for pointing out the obvious. I'm cruel, harsh, insensitive, and absolutely right. I don't take much joy in trivial matters like most men do. You asked me how Molly managed to snag my affections. She's brilliant, genuinely kind, and has enough respect for herself to keep her body unaltered, unlike some. She certainly takes my flaws in stride, and even delights in a few of them. And that, you stupid woman, is how my wife 'snagged' me.'' Sherlock stood and watched as the woman bolted for the door. He walked to where his coat was, and picked it up, before heading toward the hotel room.

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Molly was just stepping out of the bathroom, when she ran into a teary eyed Sylvia Duncan. The woman gave her a cold look through blurred vision.

''You should know, Mouse-face, that your husband is a terrible man.'' Sylvia pushed past her, leaving Molly to grin like a Cheshire cat. As she reached the end of the all she saw him standing there, waiting for her. She whispered the retort to herself as she walked toward him and his mischievously grinning face.

''No, my husband is a wonderful man.''

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Well, I hope you all liked that little double shot! Lol. I love writing Sherlock deductions, because it gives my mind a chance to stretch and use logic and imagination. Hopefully you like reading them. Let me know! Thanks for all the support from those who have read, favorites, followed, and reviewed. It really means a lot to me. I don't say it nearly enough, but I love you all! 


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